'How do we get it in the bottle, sir?'
'Tell you what, just send me up the beer, the glass, the rest of the stuff, and one raw egg. I'll do the rest.'
'Right away, Mr. Callahan.'
While he was waiting for his breakfast, Catch downed a couple of Alka Seltzer and turned on the shower to cold. Bracing himself he stepped under the prickly needles of ice cold water.
'Ahhhgh!' he groaned as the water shocked him awake. He scrubbed his body well and washed his hair. He stepped out of the shower in time to hear the knock on the door. He quickly threw a towel around his waist and went to answer it.
To his surprise it was not a bellboy, but a young attractive black woman in a crisp white uniform.
'Oh, I'm sorry. I was expecting the bellboy,' Catch stammered.
'That's all right, Mr. Callahan. I ain't shy.'
She pushed the cart into the room and set up his breakfast for him.
'Are you the one that's going to eat that raw egg?'
'That's me. A raw egg in a beer is my own cure for a hangover.'
The black woman made a face but didn't turn away. Her eyes were too affixed on the bulge caused by his cock beneath the damp towel.
Flustered at being stared at so openly, Catch went to reach into his nonexistent pants pocket for a tip and unwittingly undid the towel. The towel fell to the floor. The maid uttered a cry of exultation as her hands flew to her mouth. Her eyes bulged and were riveted on the huge piece of meat hanging between Catch's legs.
'Excuse me,' he stammered as he bent over to gather up the towel. He hurried into his pants, gave the woman a tip and eased her toward the door.
The woman, whose name was Sarah Jane Tucker, leaned against the door, panting heavily and fanning herself with the dollar bill.
Lord God in heaven, ain't never seen anything like that on a white man before!
She scurried down the hall as fast as her legs would take her and climbed on the service elevator. As the elevator descended to the basement, Sarah Jane shook her head several times, trying to rid herself of the image of the mammoth chunk of flesh.
'I think I'm going to faint, right here and now. I think the doors will probably spring open and I'll be laying here in a heap.'
Sarah Jane didn't faint but the rest of the morning she was as nervous as a hound dog near a gut wagon. She mixed up orders, dropped things and was a general disaster. The chef screamed at her many times during the morning.
'God damn it, Sarah Jane, what's wrong with you today? Now you go back in the vegetable bin and get me some salad fixings for lunch and try not to drop them, you hear?'
'Yes, sir.'
Sarah Jane got up from the stool where she had been peeling radishes (and had managed to cut her finger twice) and went down the long dark hall to the temperature-controlled room where the fresh vegetables were kept. She pushed open the heavy door and went inside. She couldn't stop thinking about Catch Callahan and his super sized spear. Sarah Jane had been a divorced woman for five years. During those five years she'd only had two real dates. She wasn't particularly attractive and she lacked the flair that the younger girls had. But what she lacked in those areas she more than made up in imagination.
She'd just spent the previous week avidly watching 'Roots' on television, completely reliving the black experience and mentally casting herself in the various parts. As she was sorting out the vegetables into a basket, her hands fell upon an oversized cucumber. She closed her eyes and squeezed it. It was firm and the skin was smooth and unblemished. She kept thinking of Catch Callahan's cock and her fantasies took over. She lay down on several sacks full of potatoes and began rubbing the cucumber over her crotch. Her pussy burned through the fabric of the material. She closed her eyes tightly and imagined the black saga which would never ever be shown on television…
Even though the sun overhead burned with a hellish intensity, she was trembling as she was led to the auction block. Clad only in a loose-fitting Mother Hubbard, she stood frightened, alone and awaiting her turn to be called. She saw the laughing group of white men milling around the auction block, making obscene comments and poking at one another as they surveyed the black woman flesh on sale.
'YOU'RE NEXT!' roared the auctioneer.
The slave driver pushed Sarah Jane and she half stumbled up the steps. She stood quaking as she heard the obscene remarks of the white gentlemen.
'That one's got a great set of tits on her.'
'Look at those hips. I'd like to spread that black oak.'
'She sure looks like a hot number to me.'
The auctioneer raised his hands for silence.
'All right, gentlemen, what will you bid for this magnificent specimen?'
With the end of his whip he lifted the skirt of her Mother Hubbard and the white men whistled as they saw her shapely black legs exposed.
Sarah Jane flinched from the touch of the cold leather handle against her thigh. He kept raising her dress higher and higher until her femininity was exposed. She hung her head in shame and tried to run away, but he slapped her across the face.
'Look lively there, wench!'
Several of the white men had come up on the auctioneer's block to examine her. They pulled back her head by the hair, forced open her mouth and examined her teeth. Several of them rammed their large hairy hands down the front of her dress and openly squeezed and fondled her breasts. Another rubbed the palm of his hand over her buttocks and felt them.
'All right, gentlemen,' continued the auctioneer, 'what do we have as a starting bid for this Mustee beauty?'
'I'll bid five hundred dollars,' said a wiry-looking man with a face like an over-ripe piece of fruit.
'Make that six hundred,' bid another tall, slender black-haired man with a look of cruelty on his face.
'Seven-fifty,' called out a burly balding man in an ill-kempt suit.
'Seven-fifty, seven-fifty,' intoned the auctioneer, 'going, going…'
'I bid one thousand dollars!'
Sarah Jane lifted her head. The man's voice was rich and melodious. Standing in back of the group with his hands raised, he was one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen. He had steel gray hair, bright blue-gray eyes and was wearing a tan jacket and breeches.
The other men protested the bid but the balding man hung on.
'Make that one thousand one hundred fifty dollars,' he shouted. His face was red, he was perspiring and he was obviously angry at not getting his way.
The tall handsome man raised his hand. 'Before I bid any higher,' he said in a clear, even tone, 'I want to make sure that she's not covered with scars.'
'Come right up, Captain Callahan,' said the auctioneer. 'You're free to examine the wench at your leisure.'
The man strode forward. His thighs bulged in his pants with each step he took and Sarah Jane could not help noticing the outline of his cock so clearly defined under the fine light fabric of the breeches.
Sarah Jane was made to walk to the back of the auctioneer's block where there was a bit of cloth hanging from a piece of rope.
'Go behind there, girl,' he said, poking her with the handle of his whip.' Captain Callahan wants to look you over.'
She stepped behind the material and waited with bated breath for the handsome captain to join her. There was a brief discussion between Callahan and the auctioneer that she could not hear, and then he lifted the drape
